Halcyon Days, Halogen Lights
by TENDERvanilla
Summary: [AU] In a city that thrived on vices, Officer Kurosaki Ichigo was immune to their siren calling. But the moment he met her, all bets were off. There's something to be said about a reckless cop who would wade knee-deep into a world of money, sex, and the nebulous concept of status and power, just to save the girl of his dreams. IchiHime with smatterings of RenRuki.
1. Chapter 1 - Sparks

**A/N:** Hello. I wrote (am writing?) this as an homage of sorts to a favorite game series of mine, _Yakuza_ or _Ryu ga Gotoku_. So, expect cops and expect yakuza. I thought it was kind of perfect how the Bleach universe could fall into a cop story. Please treat it kindly! I hope everyone can find something they enjoy about it. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 _God-fucking-damnit._

The digital clock in the car blinked 11:52. The stillness of the warm night swathed his head in a humid, bored, and sleepy haze.

"Eyes up, Kurosaki, or I can help ya with a taser to the balls."

"Fuck off, Renji." Ichigo grounded his retort around a yawn. "Tonight's been boring me to tears."

"Tonight and every other night," Renji muttered back, sighing, his arm lazily hanging outside of the open window as he absentmindedly drummed his fingers against the side of the patrol car.

Perspiration was collecting at his hairline in the face of the summer night in Lower Rukongai. Renji could feel his uniform adhering to him like a second skin. He fought the urge to peel it off.

Ichigo jerked his head in Renji's direction. "The pit stain look doesn't go well with you, you know."

"Shaddup," was Renji's only reply, followed by a half-hearted wave of his hand. "You know our uniform is the only thing that separates us from the punks that we're trying to catch."

There were no arguments from Ichigo, part of him felt too sluggish from the heat, and most of him didn't give two shits. Instead, being in the driver's seat, he rolled up all the windows, turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life. Cool air from the vents caressed their faces. The whole time, Ichigo eyed Renji with a look that said _like hell am I gonna melt to death with you in this car_. He also saw Renji open his mouth to protest, probably something about saving fuel and money by not idling with the car on, but before any sound came out of it, the dispatch radio crackled and a voice spoke.

"Patrol Car #43105, come in #43105, do you read me?"

Ichigo grabbed the microphone and answered. "Rukia, what is it?"

"Officer Kurosaki, I am your squadron leader and demand to be regarded appropriately."

"You're withholding pertinent information, _Madame_ _Commander_."

Ichigo heard the sound of Rukia clearing her throat. "Very well then. You two need to report to a house fire at coordinates 35 latitude, 139 longitude, the address is block 4, building 66, residential number 484 in the district of Lower Rukongai. Approximately five streets south and another four to the east. Fire department is already en route. According to close sources, arson is suspected.

"Ensure all civilians are evacuated to a safe area until the fire is contained. Review any casualties accordingly. The arson specialist and his team will arrive shortly. I myself will be arriving at the site with an ETA of six minutes. Stick around and assist as needed. Am I clear?"

Both men in the patrol car replied in the affirmative.

"Look, I know this is outside of what you two encounter on a normal night—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rukia. This beats pulling rowdy kids off each other and walking old man Jin home from three houses down any night!" Renji didn't even try to hide his glee at the thought of something that added even a modicum of excitement to his nightly patrol.

"—but try to be on your best behaviors. And don't go sniffing out things that you're not supposed to!"

"Don't worry, we won't do anything that you wouldn't expect us to do," said Renji. His statement probably did everything but mollify Rukia, and whether it did or not Renji didn't pause to find out as he quickly shifted the focus to the task at hand. "Patrol car #43105, orders heard. ETA to rendezvous point: less than five minutes. Over and out. We'll meet you there, Madame Commander."

Renji ended the communication line and promptly flipped on the police lights, looking at Ichigo with almost a maniacal sort of glimmer.

"You heard the woman. We don't even have five minutes to get there. Step on it!"

"Oi oi, calm the hell down or else we're going to have a death before we even get there..."

Ichigo's muttering as he shifted the gear fell onto deaf ears.

* * *

Lower Rukongai was a part of town farthest removed from the Seireitei District. Not just in terms of distance, but also in terms of socio-economic standing.

The housing was mostly composed of tightly packed units clustered into buildings that were at most three stories high. The walls of these apartment complexes were stained and splotched with an unsightly brown, and the tattered metal tin roofing, oftentimes missing huge pieces and woefully lacking in adequate coverage, was patched together by strips of once colorful tarp that had faded but held steady in spite of wind, sun, and rain. And if it attested to the kind of fears the residents of the area had, most windows and entryways to homes had wrought-iron that barred windows and preceded doors as an extra insurance against break-ins and unwarranted entry.

Yet, despite the feeling of foreboding and general malaise that consumed Lower Rukongai, hope found its way through the cracks; potted plants flowered at doorsteps and strung along balcony rails were beads of lights and small children's trinkets strewn about.

Renji had said that he and Rukia grew up in this part of town. It might not always be pretty— "your next door neighbor might be packaging and distributing illegal contraband, the neighbor from two streets over might break into someone's house and fuck up the living room in his drug-addled state, and the asshole three doors down might be threatening his wife and children when he was drunk off his ass"— but even around these parts where crime and poverty were rife, its residents still had dreams and still did their damnest to make the best life. And in addition to the childhood memories he had there, it was important to Renji to do his best to protect the dreams that grew there, the people who lived there, and the innocents who got lost there. Renji might not ever say it to Rukia's face, but Ichigo had a feeling that the better days and fond memories of Renji's childhood growing up in Rukongai were deeply entrenched in the moment Renji and Rukia met. But it wasn't his secret to tell, so he left it at that.

Even without Rukia's directions, the house fire was hard to miss; the glow of the flames and the black pillar of smoke against the night sky was unmistakable.

And calling it a "house fire" might have been a misnomer. Due to the close proximity of housing in Rukongai, what might have started as a house fire quickly engulfed the neighboring homes surrounding it. When Ichigo and Renji pulled up, it was hard to say which home was at the address they were given seeing that three shanties were on fire, with the flames were trying to lick at a close-by apartment housing. Clumps of people were a short distance from the fire, some staring glossy-eyed at the firefighters spraying jetstreams of water and others talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Ichigo~!"

The way that the voice ended his name with a flourish was telling and made Ichigo's blood pressure rise just a tick.

"Hey! Ichigo!" The man addressing him starting walked towards him even as Ichigo's eyes were rolling so far back into his head, he was pretty sure he looked liked he had been possessed. "The least you could do is acknowledge your old man and superior! Or would you have preferred the usual flying kick to the face?"

"Captain Kurosaki? What are you doing out and about in the middle of the night?" Renji asked, just as surprised but less irritated as Ichigo.

"Yeah, old man. We received word that this is a case for arson, not traffic."

Captain Isshin didn't miss a beat. He flashed a grin. "Oh, didn't you know, boys? Not only am I head of traffic, I'm also head of arson since the two departments merged! So I'm just here, doing my job just as much as you two are."

Ichigo's left upper eye twitched at the extremely proud look on his father's face.

"Chief Inspector, we should communicate our findings promptly."

From behind Isshin emerged Ishida Uryuu, a member of the lab team of the Soul City Metropolitan Police Department.

"Uryuu, great thinking." Isshin glanced at the two officers. "Always great to have someone from the lab team here to collect samples for DNA testing. You know how they can be. Picky picky...Ah! Perfect timing! Rukia's here."

Another patrol car had arrived and Rukia emerged from it, hurriedly marching towards Isshin.

Rukia bent at the waist low enough for the tie of her uniform to touch the ground. "Captain Kurosaki, sir! I sincerely apologize for my tardiness. I came from the other side of town, and I-"

Isshin chortled heartily and slapped Rukia on the back so forcefully she nearly toppled over.

"Say no more, Rukia-chan! I get it, I get it, you were picking up the slack of these two chuckleheads over here, weren't you?" Isshin winked down at her and whispered, "Between you and me, I think you're the only one who gets things done around here-"

Ichigo was the one to cut in on Isshin's ramblings with a loud _AHEM_.

"Right. Back to the situation at hand." Isshin took a short glance at the fire behind him. His face pulled into a frown for a slight second. "You know what, Uryuu, why don't you take over for a bit. God knows you're probably better than me at detailing information. I've got to check on something..." And he slipped away towards the fire marshal.

Ishida was taken aback for a second and Ichigo mumbled something about flaky old men. Ishida quickly recomposed himself for the task at hand.

"From what Chief Inspector Kurosaki and I have gathered, our situation stands as such: at approximately 2335 tonight, a fire was ignited in block 4, building 66, residential number 484 in the district of Lower Rukongai. According to the neighbors in the surrounding area, two people were inside the residence at the time. However, authorities were not notified until the fire had been burning for approximately twenty minutes, when the fire had sufficiently spread to the homes to the left, the right, and behind it. Conveniently enough, none of the residents in the surrounding homes were inside at the time. Unfortunately for them, there is no home to return to now.

"Chief Inspector has spoken with the fire marshal, who said the fire seems destructive but they are managing it well with few injuries. Our informants in the area remarked that everyone in the path of the fire has been accounted for, except for the two individuals that the burning home belongs to. By the time the fire department arrived, it was too dangerous to go in to check for anyone. We will inspect ASAP once the area is deemed safe again."

"We'll be here all night," Ichigo grumbled.

Renji grimaced. Their night would consist of more waiting. But as more time passed by, any hope for the two people unaccounted for was fading fast. He looked over and saw Rukia's expression. She seemed inquisitive and deep in thought at Ishida's words. Rukia could smell something fishy a mile away, and that look indicated that this scene reeked.

It wasn't until half-past four in the morning that the fire was reduced down to soggy charred wood and warm twisted metal. Their first investigation into the former hovels lasted two full hours, after which Ishida excused himself back to headquarters to begin analysis on his freshly picked samples that he so carefully plucked as to not compromise the results. Ichigo and Renji were about to call it a night too, until Rukia, in her most saccharine voice that sent danger-shivers down their spines, said, "And where do you two think you're going?"

Embarrassingly, Ichigo's face contorted wildly as he stammered "Well uh...err...you see...we were..."

"...We were going back to write up our report for the night." Renji glared at Ichigo as if to say, _could you sound any stupider?_ And Ichigo scowled and high-tailed it to the patrol car before Isshin could appear out of nowhere and give him a hard time as well.

"Good answer. I expect it when I come into my office in the morning. I am going to hang back and assist the chief as needed."

"Whoa. Rukia. You've been out all night, and you're still going in for a full shift in the morning?"

"As expected of me, Renji. So if you think you're going to slack and I won't find out, think again."

"Rukia. You can't." Renji said flatly.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Officer Abarai." The edge in Rukia's voice softened. "I'll be fine, Renji. Really. Now hurry and go get tonight's report done!"

Renji didn't like her response, but he chose to accept it as he followed after Ichigo.

* * *

The next time Ichigo looked up at the clock was when he was signing off his report to leave on Rukia's desk.

The telltale sign of it being eight in the morning was the noisy shuffling in of all the department heads to their post. He was familiar with all of them despite never working directly under them.

He recognized Captain Byakuya, head of the homicide division, as composed and unruffled as ever. His and Rukia's bullheadedness left no doubt that they were cut from the same thread, but if there was one man who could look at some gruesome shit and not even flinch, it was Kuchiki Byakuya. As he was entering this morning, he was speaking quietly and quickly on his cell phone. About what, it was best not to know.

Captain Hitsugaya was head of crimes against minors. The whole building seemed to think a large reason why he was impeccable at his position was that he reminded people of a child himself. (Which, if you asked Captain Hitsugaya about it, he won't directly say it but his response is generally along the lines of that is complete bullshit.) As per usual, he was being dragged in tow by his direct subordinate and the city's top interrogator, Matsumoto Rangiku. Her claim to the title was due to how she was keenly privy to the fact that fear and intimidation were not the only way to pry information out of someone.

Ichimaru Gin was head of vice and contraband. Slyer than a fox and more venomous than a snake, Captain Gin was always one step ahead of criminals.

The police force had arms that were less investigatory, also. These groups were to be deployed in situations that threatened the safety of the city. Zaraki Kenpachi and his lieutenant, Kusajishi Yachiru: Commander of the Riot Squad. Captain Sui-Feng: Commander of Special Squad for Terrorism Defense.

Popping in and out from time to time but not directly employed by the police department: the city's medical examiner, Kurotsuchi Mayuri and his ever-present, pathologist assistant "daughter" Nemu (probably adopted, Ichigo presumed. Because god knows what kind of woman would allow that kind of crazy to stick a bun in her oven), and chief medical officer of city-funded hospital Hospital of All Pure Souls, Unohana Retsu.

Going farther up the ladder, Kyoraku Shinsui was Chief of Police of Soul City Metropolitan Police Department, reporting directly to Commissioner Genryusai Yamamoto whom only Ukitake Jushiro, assistant and liaison to the Commissioner, and Commander Shinsui himself see regularly.

Nary a sign of Rukia or Isshin this morning, however. Tardiness might have been Isshin's trademark, but never Rukia's. Ichigo wondered whether the investigation could have taken _that_ long.

"Damn, I am bushed," Renji stretched and yawned audibly. "Hey Kurosaki, you want some breakfast/dinner ramen? I'll even make it my treat since you almost didn't make it out of a routine arson case in one piece."

Ichigo stuck his tongue out and pulled down an eyelid with his pinky on his bandaged left hand in a rude gesture. "Hey fuck you, how was I supposed to know that cabinet was still flaming hot?"

While inspecting the burnt remains of the home, Ichigo had attempted to gain access to a fortified metal cabinet with sliding drawers that mostly survived the fire's ravage. Despite being flame-free for some time before he tried to yank it open, the handle still amazingly retained heat, and it wasn't until after the fifth hard yank that Ichigo realized his fingers and palm were blistering.

The infuriating part? Fucking drawer was empty.

"Yeah, if you want your precious fingers back, why don't you hit up Urahara Farmacia? I swear his shit does miracles. Just don't ask what's in it."

* * *

"My my, Ichigo-kun. Get yourself into some trouble again?"

"Agh, can you save me the lecture and get me something that will make my hand stop feeling like it's still on fire?"

Ichigo's hand was splayed open and uncovered on the counter of Urahara Farmacia. The tip and length of his fingers as well as over half his palm were an angry shade of red and looked even more grotesque with the bullous blisters filled with fluid underneath his skin.

Urahara took one glance at it and immediately piped up, "Just a minor second-degree burn. We'll get you started with a topical antimicrobial and slap on one of our (notquiteyet)patented synthetic membranes for accelerated skin formation, and you'll be right as rain by tomorrow." He whisked behind a doorway.

It wasn't that Ichigo found Urahara to be annoying per se. It was that Urahara hung out with his dad way more often than Ichigo was comfortable with, and since they were always with each other, they both seemed to have the same annoying tendencies: pushing Ichigo's buttons, taking life as one gigantic joke, and, Ichigo was sure but could never outright prove, they were both pathological schemers underneath their affable demeanors. _And they fucking reveled in it_.

"My sincerest apologies for the wait, Ichigo-san." Ichigo was directed through the exit that Urahara had just gone through. "Now, if you'll please enter my humble abode, I'll see to it that you receive proper treatment expeditiously so that you are able to return to your day."

"You mean I can't just take my medication and go? You know. Like a regular pharmacy?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not. I am administering your treatment personally as I can't risk having this kind of technology fall into the wrong hands. You know how it is."

Through the doorway was what looked to be Urahara's living area. The room was modestly furnished and simply decorated. In one end of the room was a set of tables and chairs. A couch sat in front of a television set that was softly showing the news. Next to a lush houseplant, a pot of tea rested on an end table in the corner.

"Please, have a seat."

Urahara set a cup of tea down at the table where he intended Ichigo to sit. Next to his spot, which Ichigo assumed was where Urahara would sit, was a magnifying lamp and, laid out neatly, sets of tweezers, gauze, some gloves, an aquamarine-colored container, an amber bottle, and a small tray about an inch deep filled with a bright pink liquid.

"This...doesn't seem like a service that regular pharmacists provide, either."

Urahara chuckled. "I think all pretenses of Urahara Farmacia being like a regular pharmacy was out the door the moment you stepped in. Besides. I think I fancied myself as a surgeon in the past life, don't you think?

"First, we'll remove any fibers and materials you would find to be...undesirable to be under your skin. Then, we sterilize the surface before attaching the synthetic membrane. Easy, right?"

Ichigo held out his injured hand, and Urahara delicately began canvassing it under the magnifying lamp.

" _...Next in news, two deaths in Lower Rukongai as a fire razed in the early hours of the morning."_

The image of the news anchor on the television switched over to one of Isshin, the description underneath of face reading "Chief of Traffic and Arson". Ichigo could also see half of Rukia's face on the screen as she stood next to Isshin.

" _We were able to confirm the deaths of Inoue Takeshi and Inoue Ai from minuscule bone samples collected from two charred shapes of human remains. However, we can neither confirm nor deny evidence of foul play. We will escalate and get to the bottom of this case so that the souls of Mr. and Mrs. Inoue may rest in peace. The Soul City Metropolitan Police Department commends and thanks the efforts of the Soul City firefighters who quickly put out the fire and kept the casualties to a minimum. Their prompt and effective response embodies the spirit and fevor of our people._ "

The image of Isshin on the television was replaced by a young woman no greater than twenty-eight years of age. She spoke into the microphone the field reporter was holding in front of her.

" _My daughter and I were sitting on the balcony when we saw the fire spreading. Our apartment complex is only five houses down, so it wasn't hard to miss the flames. And the smell. I immediately called the authories, but twice I was disconnected, and once they even put me on hold! Can you believe that? Places that exist to protect us! I went next door to ask my neighbor, and he said he had the same problem, too. Maybe if they had only gotten my call, two people would be alive right now._ "

Next was a stout, frazzled-looking older man.

" _Soul City is going to hell in a handbasket._ _You wanna know why it took so long for someone to come out here? Because the city officials had orchestrated it all. They see Rukongai as a big, fat shitstain on their pristine city. So they let us burn. And once all the rats have been chased out, the fat cats move in with their fake glittering skyscrapers and high-rises while thousands are left homeless. Well they can just go fu—_ "

The news anchor returned. " _In the event of this tragedy, we would like to take the time to remind everybody to take care of items in your home; scraps of trash, cigarette butts, and even rogue candles can be a fire hazard. Please be mindful of the placement of your belongings, especially in this summer heatwave..._ "

Ichigo's attention was torn away from the television as a yelp escaped from his lips. He turned back to see Urahara's tweezers gripping a soaked gauze as he used it to spread a cold, burning, _stinging!_ liquid over his wound.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? This is going to sting a little."

"No shit?" Ichigo grounded out through clenched teeth.

"Now, don't wiggle around too much when I put this membrane on unless you feel like the young ladies around town would like your gnarled, crusty hand holding theirs."

From the tray, using two sterile forceps, Urahara lifted the thin, gossamer membrane from its medium. It was about the size of Ichigo's hand and looked exactly like what a perfectly square sheet of skin would look like if it was peeled off of someone all in one piece.

The moment it touched Ichigo's blisters, his palm went from feeling extremely cold to extremely numb before a tingling sensation took over. It was not unlike how it felt to have his foot fall asleep, except all the sensations were happening within a ten-second time period. He watched Urahara flatten out any wrinkles and cut off extra pieces that didn't fit his hand, but the feeling did not register to his appendage. It was a strange and not entirely pleasant experience.

"The feeling should wear off within the hour. In the meantime, while your skin and nerves are regenerating, we're going to cover your hand in this gel and wrap it up so as to not disturb the healing process. After twenty-four hours have passed, you may unwrap your dressings and find your hand to be as good as new, smooth as the day you were born. The gel will also have dissolved the synthetic membrane, so there won't be anything 'plastic' about you." Urahara looked proud of himself.

"Thanks, Kisuke." Ichigo reached for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"Consider it a favor to your father. After all, he would probably find you more useful with full use of both your hands..."

Ichigo shook his head. "That's unacceptable. I don't do well with owing other people something. Or making other people bear my burdens for that matter."

"...But since I had a feeling you'd say something along those lines, I have a proposal that you pay me back with a drink from Soten Kisshun."

At Ichigo's quizzical look, Urahara continued. "A speakeasy on the edge of the Seireitei District and the district of Hueco Mundo. Funny how the secretive nature of a speakeasy is betrayed by how popular it is. Even funnier is the kind of crowd it attracts: high-ranked government officials, the easily bribed and the easily corrupted, even...yakuza types. They come there mainly for one attraction, and...well, I'll let you find out.

"So what say you, Ichigo? Buy me one of their killer cupcake martinis at The Soten Kisshun and we'll call it even. I promise I won't be the only one to get a treat."

"Are you sure I can't just pay you, because this seems like a lot of trouble. By that I mean you're going to drag both our asses into trouble."

"And I keep telling you that I don't create trouble, it always seems to find me."

"Besides, it's hard for me to find a free night. Or did you forget I'm part of the night crew?"

"Well you're not working tonight are you?"

Ichigo's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times.

"Then it's settled. Meet me here at seven, and we'll be on our way."

A bell chimed from the pharmacy area. Urahara excused himself.

"Welcome to Urahara Farmacia, for your eastern, western, and holistic medicinal needs!...Arthritic problems, you say? Conventional medicine has been ineffective? Might I suggest alternative methods...I have types that can be orally ingested, inhaled, or even topically applied..."

* * *

The Seireitei District, if you asked anybody, was the crown jewel of Soul City. Clusters of tall buildings made of white marble and smooth glass. High-end shopping and restaurants on every corner. Fountains spraying cool, clear water that sparkled in the sun. Children frolicking happily in parks, women chatting excitedly about their weekend, men cheerily riding their bicycles down smoothly paved avenues. Every advertisement that featured something perfect came straight from somewhere in Seireitei. Minimal editing required. If Seireitei was the spirit of Soul City, then stands at no surprise that the central government of Soul City was in the heart of Seireitei.

Over to the west was the District of Hueco Mundo. Seireitei' s uglier, grittier, shadier stepsister. There was only one way to describe it: Soul City's unabashed red-light district. Sinning was rampant but it didn't run unchecked; just because the people there didn't subscribe to the idea of city policemen enforcing the law on them didn't mean there was no law they would be subjected to. To illustrate this point, no policeman of sound mind would waltz into Hueco Mundo with the intent of waving his badge, but he may enter with the intention of a drink, a smoke, and a fuck. No violence, no judgement, no forcing. This was all possible under the regime of the yakuza that ruled Hueco Mundo. Rumor has it that the underground network that snaked all throughout the district like veins led to a single core: Las Noches, the yakuza headquarters and sanctuary, inaccessible to regular citizens and never spoken about by those who have seen it.

These two seemingly opposite pieces of the city existed right next to each other. Side by side, no buffer in between. And at the interface of the two districts, they melded into a cacophonous sort-of harmony that revolved around money, sex, and the nebulous concept of status and power.

The sleepy suburb district of Karakura was directly east of Seireitei, and so when they headed closer towards Hueco Mundo, Ichigo and Kisuke bore witness to the transition from the picture-perfect lawns and large family homes of Seireitei to establishments that could only be found as they headed more westward. The transition was gradual, but it was by no means subtle. On the drive towards The Soten Kisshun, here is what Ichigo saw: a pet shop with cute animals playing in the display window. A smoothie shop advertising health-boosting benefits. A cafe filled with patrons on their laptops and reading. A dog clothing boutique. And then, with an obnoxiously big sign that protruded off the side of the building, an "ALL NUDE ALL DAY~︎ MASSAGE PARLOR". A few more innocuous businesses before a hostess club popped up. And next to it, a pachinko parlor. A strip club. Love hotels started appearing. It continued like so until the only businesses outside of those for adult entertainment were bars and restaurants.

Urahara and Ichigo didn't have to venture too far into Hueco Mundo. In fact, according to map borders, they were technically still in Seireitei. And it showed, because The Soten Kisshun was nowhere near like the dumpy bars and dives that usually sprouted in Hueco Mundo.

The Soten Kisshun was actually located on the second floor of the building it occupied, above an udon shop that was currently closed at the current time of day. Its only entrance was accessible through a back alleyway that was solely illuminated by the glow of a humming vending machine. The door was painted red and embossed with detailed gold trimmings the shape of flowers, which would be something to admire if it wasn't for the large muscular man standing in front of it. His skin was the color of caramel coffee, and his dark eyes were nearly completely hidden by his hair. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rumbling, and Ichigo got the impression that although he was a man of few words, what words he did say were always impacting.

It was almost anticlimactic to see Urahara address the other man, who was a good half-foot taller than him and a great deal more ripped, so casually.

"Good evening, Sado-kun. _I reject_. Does that work for you?"

Sado-kun's head bowed in a small nod. He stepped aside and opened the door for Urahara. "It's good to see you again. Friend today?"

"Close friend's son. Thought he should get out more."

"Don't cause trouble for her."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Right, Ichigo?"

Ichigo hummed a shaky response in the affirmative that he tried to play off as clearing his throat. It wasn't that he was afraid of Sado, but there was something intimidating about a man who looked like he could snap Ichigo's spine over his knee and throw him over the roof out to the other side of the street if he "caused trouble for her," whoever "she" was.

Urahara had mentioned that The Soten Kisshun was popular, but it was a lot less crowded than what Ichigo had expected. Less crowded, and a lot quieter. Groups of people, dressed casually but still in their finer silks, were gathered together, smiling and chatting over their martini glasses in the plush booths that lined the back wall. Some were playing darts. Others were playing billiards underneath a softly glowing lamp hanging above, their leather shoes tapping the immaculate hardwood floor as they shuffled about. Near the bar, the piano was being played by a frighteningly pale man with a perpetually deadpan expression. His forest green eyes never moved from his slender hands as they danced across the piano keys.

Perhaps the loudest and most crowded area in the establishment had to be by the bar. Shelves with various bottles of different shapes, sizes, and color containing spirits and liquors lined the western wall from floor to ceiling, and the dark granite counter surrounded the bar area on all sides in a half-square. Many were clamoring around it, most likely ordering drinks. The bar seating was all occupied, mostly by men, from what Ichigo could tell.

The Soten Kisshun was a nice place. A cozy place. A place to unwind and feel good about yourself. And Ichigo had to say, he could see himself hanging out in a place like this, knocking back a few drinks with Renji and Rukia, complaining about the shitty day they had or celebrating a promotion.

"Why don't you find us a seat by the bar and get yourself something to drink? I hear the barmaid is quite the mixologist. I'm going to put in some...requests for the gentleman playing the piano."

Ichigo shrugged and started towards the bar, doubtful one seat, much less two, would even free up. As he approached, however, a short man in a brown suit pushed a generous amount of money towards the center of the bar, smiling and waving as he hopped off the stool.

"Thank you for your time, Inoue-san."

"Thank you for your patronage, Otogi-san!"

A light and airy voice drifted to Ichigo's ears. It sounded almost like a melody.

Thankfully, he reached the newly opened bar stool before anybody else could, and he seated himself. Now all he had to do is wait for another one open. But in the meantime...

"Hello. Welcome to The Soten Kisshun! I'm Inoue Orihime. Please let me know how I can be of service to you!"

With her introduction, Orihime slightly bent at the waist into a small bow.

If part of Ichigo hadn't been so struck by the barmaid's greeting, he would have been offended for her at the way the man next to him quietly groaned _oh baby, turn that around for me some more,_ loud enough for Ichigo to hear it, but not her.

The other part of him? Well, it was just about ready to die at the next thing that came through his lips:

"Th-thanks. You, too."

 **END CHAPTER ONE.**

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes, I know what you're all thinking. And the answer is, yes, Kisuke does sell weed. Or an equivalence to it that exists in Soul City.

See you next time!

(P.S. I'm trying to keep this somewhat reflective of the modern Japanese and American lifestyle while taking liberties as Soul City is a fictional place. I apologize if it throws you off.)


	2. Chapter 2 - Drink

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you to my kind reviewers! I dedicate this chapter to you and to those who decided they like this enough to want to keep up with it. You know who you are. ;)

 **···················**

Oh god. _Oh god._

Here it comes. Any moment now, this stunningly attractive barmaid was going to realize what had so thoughtlessly came out of his mouth, turn around and tell everyone at the bar what an inarticulate _dick_ he was, and they would all have one great, big laugh. Then, Isshin and Urahara would come rushing over out of nowhere because they would never miss an opportunity to laugh at Ichigo's expense, bellow "Ichigo said WHAT?" incredulous that anyone could be so glib, and start guffawing so hard they keeled over, unable to breathe. In the midst of all the laughter, all Ichigo would be able to do was hope that if he prayed hard enough, the Earth underneath him would open its maws and swallow him whole, sending him deep into its mantle before he combusted at its core. And as his soul ascended (or descended) to the afterlife, heavenly music would play to the chorus of "Thanks, you too...Thanks, you too…"

It was all very melodramatic, but all very real possibilities in Ichigo's mind.

He braced himself for the fallout, but none ever came.

Instead, Orihime blinked twice, and giggled and smiled so wide, her dimples seemed deep enough for Ichigo to press his fingers into. He felt heat creep up his neck, whether it was the after burns of his embarrassment or way she laughed, he couldn't be sure.

"I'll give you a moment to decide. But if you need any suggestions, just let me know!" Orihime winked. "If you'll please excuse me."

Another slight bow, and she whisked away to tend to other beckoning patrons.

As a bartender, or barmaid, Orihime was dressed modestly and professionally. Jeweled turquoise hair pins held her hair back from her face. A pencil skirt hugged her curves. Her ruffled white button-up blouse was clasped at the neck by a satin maroon ribbon that sat at her collar. A sleeveless vest jacket that matched her skirt completed the yes-I'm-serving-you-but-no-I'm-not-for-sale look that differed from the barmaids at many other places where the drinks were not really the selling point. It had the sexy allure of somebody who was good at her job and didn't need to rely on any other assets to help her. Not that she was lacking in any.

Honestly, it was kind of working for Ichigo. Him, and the rest of the guys here. God, he was no better than the chauvinistic, horndog asshole next to him. But Ichigo found it hard to relinquish her from his gaze. He watched as Orihime flitted from task to task—taking orders, making drinks, processing payments, pleasing customers and making sure they were having a good time— it should have been impossible for a single girl to do. But somehow, she managed it all, and never once did she let down the curve of a smile on her face. Every customer she spoke to, she beamed and looked at them like they were the most important person in the world. And they ate it up—lavished themselves in her cheer and hospitality. She captivated men and even women. In fact, one young woman with red hair and half-moon glasses was literally falling over herself when Orihime was attending to her. She tried to make a grab to hold Orihime in her arms, but was so drunk she ended up planting her face onto the bar counter. Orihime didn't seem too troubled by it, though, as she just laughed at the other woman's comical reaction.

So engrossed in ogling her (Ichigo was pretty sure that was what it looked like he was doing), Ichigo almost didn't notice her approaching him.

"Have you given some thought about what you might be interested in, 'Berry-san? Do you need any help?"

"I...wait, 'Berry-san'? Did you—how did guess at my name? My name is Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo. You made a play on my name without me even telling you what it was."

Orihime's hand snapped up to her lips, her voice and demeanor a mixture of surprise, sheepishness, and embarrassment.

"I-I apologize for being so forward, Kurosaki-kun. I...It's just…" Ichigo could have been imagining it, but even in the lower lighting, he thought he could make out a tinge of pink in her cheeks. "Your hair. It reminds me of strawberries."

"It's not too far off from the color of yours."

Orihime smiled again, but this time it seemed far away instead of her usual thousand-watts. "When I was younger, people use to bully me for my hair. They'd pull it, smear things into it, they'd chase me with a pair of scissors and try to cut it off. But you know what?" She leaned down so to her face was level to his, and she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "I think yours is beautiful."

 _No. I think_ _ **you're**_ _beautif—_

"Oh, Ichigo! I see you're already getting acquainted with Inoue-san."

Urahara _motherfucking!_ Kisuke. This man just swept the board for some high honors: one for being Most Annoying, Inconvenient Son of a Bitch, and another for World's Biggest Boner Killer.

Not that Ichigo had one. Buzzkill probably would have been a better way to put it, but dammit if this man didn't plan his entries.

Oblivious to Ichigo's inner fury, Orihime happily greeted Urahara like an old friend. "It's always a pleasure to see you. Is Yoruichi-san with you today?"

"Unfortunately, no. But she says she misses you, and sends her love."

"It must be exciting," Orihime lowered her voice so no one possibly eavesdropping could hear. "To travel the world and live a life of espionage. But I can only imagine how hard it is for you, Urahara-san."

Urahara's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Somehow, I find myself in situations that keep me busy. So it's not too bad.

"Now, can a lonely man trouble you to help him forget his pains with a little bit of poison? I think a glass of your finest scotch will do. Neat, please, and don't hold back—I'm being treated tonight. And...perhaps one of your famous cupcake martinis for Berry-san over here. It's time he get a taste of your expertise in mixology!"

At the mention of the nickname, Ichigo gave a small jolt. Ichigo smacked his unwrapped hand against his cheek, turned to face the wall he was sitting next to, and glowered at it. He could feel the heat from his cheek radiating to his palm, unable to look at the man who had the gall to not only listen in on and wreck his conversation, he also just ordered him a _really_ _uncool_ drink for a guy. If the wall had Urahara's face on it, he would be staring daggers into it. Except the daggers would be real, and Kisuke's face would be in shreds.

Ichigo didn't catch a glimpse of Orihime's reaction. All he heard was her squeaking "Aye aye sir, I'll get it to you right away" before scurrying off.

"It's all right, Ichigo. Men these days are free to enjoy dessert martinis without becoming a total laughingstock."

"That's not—that's not really the issue here."

"Oh, was it the Berry thing? Don't worry, I only walked in on enough to see you gaping at her and picking your jaws off the floor. Don't feel self-conscious about it; men tend to do that around her."

Kisuke just won another award: this time for Unsolicited Mind Reading.

"We used to all call you that when you were younger. But I haven't seen you look like that at that name since your mother was still alive."

By the time Orihime returned with their drinks, Ichigo's discomfort had ebbed. She neatly placed each drink in front of their respective owners.

"Please enjoy!" she cheerily said before she pardoned herself to tend to other customers.

The two drinks were indeed foils of each other. While the dark-golden scotch sat in a short, curvaceous glass made specifically for optimal intake and enjoyment of such a refined beverage, with no other trimmings or detractions, Ichigo's martini glass was taller with a fine line of what looked to be cake crumbs and colorful sprinkles held in place with cake frosting at its rim. The drink itself looked to be tinged with the color of limoncello, with flecks of lemon zest floating on top. And was his drink _glittering_?

"If it makes you feel any better, Yoruichi loves it."

"No. No, it does not."

But Ichigo took a tentative sip anyway. He could taste the flavor of the cake vodka and sweetness coming through. The spike of citrus, however, was a burst of flavor that kept the drink from being overly sweet or monotone in flavor. It was surprisingly enjoyable and reflective of Soten Kisshun as a whole: pleasant, comforting, and honest.

"I thought you said this place attracted yakuza-types," Ichigo remembered suddenly. He had imagined that anyone who fit that "type" would stick out like a sore thumb. But here, or at least tonight, the kind of people lounging about seemed to be solidly middle-class to upper-middle-class denizens without a single thought of any shady business on their mind.

Except for maybe Mr. Dead-Eyes Piano Man over there. Maybe he wasn't an outright unscrupulous character, but he was, at the very least, somewhat dubious. Ichigo looked over in his direction and saw him staring right back, whether it was directed at Urahara or Ichigo himself, it wasn't clear. It was a little unnerving, but "unnerved" was never part of Ichigo's vocabulary.

"Just the sight of Sado keeps the lower-ranked, pesky big-mouthed ones away. Anyone in the higher ranks worth their salt knows better than to cause a scene in a place like this. Sado keeps a pretty good tab on the people who frequent here."

"You seem intimately familiar with this place."

"Yoruichi and I always visit when she's in town." He looked pointedly at Orihime. "She's a really sweet girl. Been through more than you'd think. The saying goes, the most beautiful flowers bloom in the face of adversity."

Urahara took a deep whiff from his cup before imbibing.

Mr. Dead-Eyes "Puts-Snow-White-to-Shame" Piano Man was still staring in Ichigo's direction.

"H-hey, did you offend the piano guy over there with your request or something? I can't tell whether or not that's just his normal face or if he's about ready to throw the piano across the room. I mean honestly, the guy has had one expression since I've gotten here."

Lowering his glass, Urahara sighed deeply through his nostrils. His eyes had a distant look to them. Did he seem...kind of troubled? This wasn't something Ichigo was used to.

"I tried to request his loyalty. He was not very receptive to my proposition. It's hard to tell what a man wants when he himself doesn't know where his heart lies."

Ichigo's brow furrowed. "Er...what? Okay?"

It was less of an inquiry than an _I have no idea what the hell you are talking about_.

Urahara had a tendency to speak cryptically when a subject was not meant to be broached. And as dense as Ichigo could be, he knew better than to keep prodding.

The two men sat together sipping their drinks in an awkward and tense, but familiar silence. Sometimes, the only way Ichigo knew how to offer sympathy or support for someone was to silently keep them company. And sometimes, words just got in the way anyway.

Ichigo had almost polished off his martini before Orihime returned.

"I'm so sorry! I hope I didn't cause you two to feel neglected. It's quite busy tonight for a weeknight. But I guess I shouldn't complain."

Ichigo simply waved off her apology. "It's not a problem at all. You don't need to worry about us."

"Was the martini all right, Kurosaki-kun? I know it's not a very traditionally manly drink…" She twiddled her thumbs behind her back, worried her bottom lip and rocked her weight on the front of her feet. And god, the way she way she was looking at him expectantly through her lashes. What kind of monster would kick a puppy eager to please?

Kisuke gave a light snicker next to him. He didn't even need to say it, but Ichigo could still hear his annoying sing-song voice: _The ball's in your court, Ichigo!_

He gulped and licked his dry lips. Should he oust his previous apprehension and disappoint her? Or tell a little white lie and spare her feelings?

"You know what, it's okay. I am more than secure enough about my manhood to know a good drink when I see it. And I think yours is excellent, and everyone should be happy to drink it, man or woman."

Orihime's smile was so big, it crinkled the edges of her eyes.

"Oh, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Usually men take a little more coaxing to give it a chance, but when they do try it, they seem to really like it. Kurosaki-kun, you're my hero; I'm so happy you gave me a chance. If you'd like, I can have something different for you every time you visit, in honor of your adventurous spirit."

Ichigo felt his heart jump into his throat. "I-is that so? Well-well I really wouldn't want to put you through the trouble, Inoue. Believe me, I am nobody's hero…"

"Anybody can be a hero to somebody!"

His eyes found her face, searching for any shred of irony or sarcasm. But when he caught her bright eyes and rosy cheeks, any doubts were dispelled; yes, this woman, this boundlessly optimistic woman who was mercilessly bullied in her childhood, still believed in the goodness of people. The irony was almost maddening- the crux of his whole livelihood was that there were bad people in the world, and they must be swiftly dealt with and removed from society. And it wasn't as if she was naive about it either; people were capable of doing bad things, yes. But it didn't mean bad choices negated how significant the individual could be to another.

That she truly believed in that made every fiber of Ichigo's being ache to protect her. Despite himself, he felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile, the first in what seemed like forever.

A jarring, tiny voice in him susurrated softly, _Barring the fact that, you know. You still kinda-sorta lied to her._

And Ichigo silently said, _Shut up, Tiny Voice,_ as he banished it into the recesses of his mind.

"Well, you have been the hero of my night, Inoue-san. You know exactly how to mend a man's ailing heart." Urahara gave a crooked smile.

"Alcohol?"

"Your smile. My business is only a small recompense for what you do for me. For us."

Urahara placed some bills on the tray in front of Orihime. He winked at Ichigo and mouthed, "Next time, you can pay me back double."

Ichigo frowned but knew better than to argue.

"Oh no...Urahara-san, I can't…" Orihime looked at Urahara pleadingly. She tried pushing the money back but Urahara held her hand in place.

"Please, Orihime. I insist." He got out of the seat he was in. "Unfortunately, parting is such sweet sorrow. Have to open bright and early tomorrow. Ichigo-coming, or lingering for another drink or two?"

Ichigo didn't know what possessed him to give the response he did. He didn't really _have_ any business to stay, but he felt something pulling at his stomach that rooted him there. Hell, it was his night off, what was there to return home to? Maybe it was the (one) drink, or maybe he was just tipsy with something else, he didn't know. He opened his mouth to answer:

"Yeah, I think I'll stay. Get a feel of this place some more. I'll be fine getting home."

"As you wish. Just...make it home before Isshin wakes up. Or else he might get some ideas. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Ichigo scoffed. "Dad would probably think I spent the night at some girl's house and be overjoyed."

Urahara chuckled as he made his exit, but not before one last jab: "He'd be overjoyed even if it was a guy!"

Goddamn that Urahara Kisuke. Always had to have the last laugh.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Kurosaki-kun! You're welcome to stay for a long as you'd like. I even have some pillows in the back if you don't think you can make it home."

"Oh," Ichigo gave an awkward laugh. "I was just kidding about the spending the night thing…"

"If you need anything, just let me know, and I'll come running!"

An hour and a glass of whiskey came and went for Ichigo. By this time, it was around one in the morning, and much of the clientele at The Soten Kisshun had dispersed, save for two men at the bar and a few others finishing up a game of pool. Sado had come in from his post at the door to help sweep and tidy up abandoned drinking glasses. Overall, it made for a much quieter place and much more available Orihime.

Once, she asked him about his bandaged hand.

"Are you all right? It looks pretty bad."

"This? Well...it's not as bad as it looks." Ichigo glanced sideways. The true embarrassing reason how he sustained an injured hand died in the back of his throat. Somehow, it just didn't sound very cool to admit that he hurt himself because he tried opening a cabinet that was really hot, and he just didn't know how hot it was until it was too late. "It's just some collateral damage. I'm a cop," he explained.

Her eyes widened, huge as saucers. "So-so did somebody try to attack you, is that what happened?! I bet it was somebody with chainsaws for hands, and they slashed through some trees, trying to surprise you, but then they didn't count on you detecting the revving of their chainsaws. And then you almost got your hand sawed off in the fight! Is that true?!"

He watched her animated speculations with his mouth agape, and when she finished, it took him a good few seconds to wrap his head around what she had just said. He wasn't sure whether or not to laugh.

"No? I'm just in traffic...and arson now, I guess. We're lowest on the totem pole, but we're usually the first to arrive on the scene."

"So you must have seen some gruesome things, then?"

"We saw two burnt bodies from a fire just yesterday. But nothing more exciting than that that I can think of."

"I saw that on the news! It's so sad. May they rest in peace."

"No relations, then? Inoue is a pretty common last name."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't know. Maybe. My brother took me away from my parents when I was too young to remember. He told me that they weren't very nice people. They were involved in illegal substances and he said they wouldn't have thought twice about selling me if it meant they could get more."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. My brother and I were really happy together. But I want to know more about your exciting life as a police officer! Did you always know?

"Always know what?"

"That you wanted to be one."

Ichigo twisted his mouth in thought. No one had ever asked him that before, and he never fathomed telling the reason why he chose to be in his profession to someone he had only known for a few hours.

"It started with my dad, really. When I was little, he started off the same way as I am right now, your run-of-the-mill traffic cop working the graveyard shift. I'd ask my mom why he could never tuck me in at night, or even play with me during the day since he was sleeping, she'd always say he was 'keeping the world safe for the people he loves most". And she was so proud of him. Mom loved Dad, and he adored the hell out of her as well. I thought if I could grow up to be the same, she'd be proud of me, too. That's the happy version I tell people, and they usually seem pretty satisfied with it."

"There's a not-happy version?"

"The not-happy version is that one rainy day, Mom went out to buy mentaiko for dinner that night. It was supposed to only be a short trip to the grocery store; one she could make on foot and back in less than an hour. But she didn't, because some _fucking prick_ decided he had to speed and jump a curb and use her goddamn body as a landing pad. He hit her, and he never bothered to stop or call the police. She was there for _an hour_ before anybody found out."

Ichigo grounded the heels of his hands into his eyeballs and steadied himself with a deep sigh. It had been years, but the hurt and the throbbing anguish resurfaced as if it had just been yesterday.

"So now, my old man is head of traffic. People at the department keep telling him to move onto something better, like vice or homicide. He keeps saying that he gets a kick out of stopping people and making them shit themselves before he just hands them a warning instead of an actual citation, but I know. He's hoping to one day catch the guy who killed Mom. I want to bring that guy to justice as well. But most of all, I want to make it so that no kid will be forced to sit and wait and anxiously stare at the clock for hours waiting for their mom to come home, and when someone finally knocks on the door, it's actually the cops telling them their mom isn't going to come home anymore. I would put away as may criminals I can if it meant nobody had to feel that level of agony.

"Sorry, Inoue. I kind of got carried away."

When Ichigo looked up, he saw Orihime's eyes were wet and misty with unshed tears, her lower lip trembled with emotion.

"I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun! I'm so sorry you had to go through something like that."

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault."

"I know. I know, but you're so kind...you don't deserve any of that." She quickly swiped at her eyes and sniffled a little. "You know, I already knew, the moment I met you."

"Already knew what?"

"That you're a hero. You're everybody's hero."

"I'm just a traffic police officer," he mumbled, sheepishly running his hand through his hair.

Ichigo hoped the warmth on his face was nowhere near the level of warmth that Orihime was looking at him with right now.

Suddenly, a booming _SLAM!_ reverberated throughout the bar, snapping Ichigo and Orihime out of their reverie and effectively silencing everyone as they swiveled their heads towards the source of the abrupt noise.

It was one of the men sitting on the adjacent side of the bar from Ichigo. He was on his feet, while the barstool he had previously been sitting on was sideways on the floor. His face was ruddy as he glared in Ichigo's direction. When he spoke, his words slurred together.

"Did you just say you were a police officer?"

"Yeah. You got a problem?"

"Two words for you, copper: fuck. You. Fuck you, and fuck all of your sorry-ass police department!"

A few gasps could be heard. Ichigo was about to rise out of his seat also, but Orihime threw out her hand.

"Excuse me, sir, I need to ask you to leave. I am sorry that you feel the way you do, but we have a zero-tolerance policy on belligerence towards staff and other customers."

"Screw you, girlie, who do you think you are? The owner or something?"

"Why, yes. I am indeed the owner."

The man swallowed anxiously but refused to back down. "Watch your mouth, woman. You think you're perfect with your big tits and long hair? You're gonna get what's coming to you. Just watch."

Ichigo had enough—the way the man was spouting pure vitriol to Inoue—he just couldn't stomach it anymore.

"Hey _asshole_ , your problem is with me, isn't it? Do I really have to tell you that it's not wise to pick a fight _with a policeman_?"

"I don't care. I don't care about anything. I have nothing left. I would be locked up for the rest of my life if I could make even one of you feel the despair that you made my Yukiko feel with your fucking incompetence."

"Yukiko? The hell are you talking about?"

"Yukiko-chan!" The man sobbed. "Yukiko-chan, my daughter! My only daughter!" The man hammered his fists on the counter. He took a photo out of his wallet to reveal a pretty, pale high-schooler with midnight hair. "She...she told me that she had always suspected she had a stalker. A teacher at her high school...she told the administrators, the police, she even told me. But nobody believed her.

"Then one night, she was walking home. We live on the edges of Rukongai. She said she had a horrible feeling and tried to call the police but she could never get in touch with anybody. So she tried to soldier on and quickly make it home. But _that bastard_ got to her first! H-he _took her and raped her_ and even when I pleaded, begged her to report it, she told me _nobody would believe her anyway_. My Yukiko was never the same after that. And after that, she...I found her the other week, floating in a bathtub filled with water the color of her blood, her wrists slit. If you could have seen the look on her face...It was like she was just sleeping.

"If only...if the police had only answered her call that night. Where were you? Where were you when she needed you the most?!"

"Look, I—"

"It's too late for answers, bastard!"

It all happened in a blur: the man dove at Ichigo with surprising speed, his fist clenched in the air, ready to punch with all his strength and eager to inflict pain. Ichigo's body wound up like a spring, ready to jump into action, but before he could even get out of his seat, the unanticipated wall of a back was all he could see.

"Customers will not harm others in Soten Kisshun." The voice was deep and growling. "Take any fights far away from here."

Sado had the other man's mid-air fist in his hand before he yanked it out.

"F-fine. You hear that, copper? Why don't you come on out and face me like a man?"

Ichigo was about to open his mouth to answer when Inoue, who had come out from behind the bar counter, threw out a placating hand in front of him.

"Please, Kurosaki-kun. Let me handle this. It's my duty to make sure my customers feel safe. That all my customers feel safe."

She walked next to Sado, in front of the enraged man, and silently thanked him with a tranquil look.

The man was taken aback and deflated when Orihime bowed deeply to him.

"Please, sir. If you'll allow me to address you by name."

"Masayoshi. Masayoshi Honda."

"Masayoshi-san, then." She looked at him with soft eyes, without a hint of anger, animosity, or annoyance. Only sadness and sympathy. "I cannot even begin to imagine the amount of pain you are in and the pain that your daughter was going through. Nothing I say will bring her back to you, and I'm not capable of any magic words that can put your heart back together again. I can only speak from the bottom of my heart, and please. Please don't throw yourself away like this.

"It might ache to think about her. It might _always_ ache to think about her. But the fact that you think about her keeps her memory alive. Somebody will always remember Masayoshi Yukiko. And when you're ready...when you're ready, you can harness your feelings to change the world! Change the world so that nobody will have to go through what Yukiko did alone! I never knew Yukiko, but can you imagine it? Can you imagine Yukiko-chan smiling down at her papa from heaven? Yukiko-chan resting more easily because her story prevented the loss of thousands of beautiful girls and boys like her?

"So please. Don't throw yourself away. If you need help, please seek it. If you need a safe place to be, you can be here. I will listen."

The room was filled with the sound of sniffles. Masayoshi had sunken to the floor, his body shaking with his cries. He whimpered as he sobbed, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Yukiko-chan! I'm so sorry you had a pathetic excuse for a father. Papa...Papa will do his best to keep living for you!"

Ichigo saw Orihime wipe away a few fallen tears on her own face before turning back to him.

"I apologize on behalf of Masayoshi-san. Grief is a difficult thing to process."

Ichigo nodded.

"Inoue also lost her brother a few years back," explained Sado. "Sora was the only family she ever knew. He was the former owner of The Soten Kisshun. He taught her everything about running this place."

"I owe my life to my friends like Sado-kun and Tatsuki-chan. She comes in to help when she's not traveling as a world-class champion in Tae Kwon Do," Orihime chimed in. "If it weren't for them...I don't know what would have happened."

Ichigo marveled once again at Orihime's humanity and tenacity to keep on smiling— glossing over her own pains, offering unbridled sympathy, and praising her friends.

Sado was now supporting sullen-looking Mr. Masayoshi with his arm draped over his shoulder.

"I think he's ready to go home now."

"I'll make sure he does," Ichigo grunted as he transferred the weight the man from Sado. "Wasn't planning on doing anything remotely related to my job today, but I guess plans change. Fair to say no charges will be pressed today?"

Orihime nodded. "You truly are a kind person, Kurosaki-kun. Please come back again soon."

Her voice almost sounded like it was pleading, and made Ichigo's heart twinge.

"You know what, here." With his free hand, Ichigo reached in his pocket and pulled out a slim, card-sized case. From it, he pulled out a white card.

"I'm usually the night patrol in Rukongai. But if you need me, any time of day, just call or send me a message. I'll come running."

Orihime regarded his business card like a precious jewel.

The way she beamed at him as she cradled it in her hand would be something Ichigo thought about for weeks before he fell asleep in the morning.

 **···················**

"Ichi-nii. You didn't come home until late last night."

"Went and had a few drinks. What's it to you, Karin? What were you doing up at that hour anyway?"

"I'm not the one being questioned here. I saw you walking into your room. You were staring at your phone with a real dopey look on your face. Are you in love? Did you meet someone?"

"Ohh, Ichi-nii's in love! When will we get to meet them?"

"No no no Yuzu, I am _not_ in love, and you can't let Dad he—"

"DID I HEAR THAT MY BOY ICHIGO IS IN LOVE? PRAISE MASAKI! Ichigo, I want you to know, we accept you as you are, and whomever you choose to love, we will love them all the same."

"Old man! _I'm not gay."_

"All I'm saying that is no matter your sexual preference, if you like it from the back—"

"Daddy! We're having dinner."

"—or if you like, what do they call it, 'docking'—"

"Well that settles it. I'm never bringing anyone home."

"—or if you like to teabag ea—BUGH!"

"Karin, I think you broke Daddy's nose for real this time…"

"Good. He just doesn't know when to stop sometimes."

 **···················**

 _[SMS MSG] - June 20, 20XX, 03:56_

 _Fr: 0xx-xxx-4133_

 _Sub: Thank you for coming!_

 _Hello Kurosaki-kun! I know you said to use this number in case of an emergency, but I wanted to personally let you know how much of a pleasure it was to serve you. Thank you so much for taking Masayoshi-san home. I hope it wasn't an inconvenience to you. I promise to make it up to you next time you come by!_ ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

 _~Orihime_

 _[SMS MSG] - June 20, 20XX, 04:02_

 _Fr: Me_

 _Sub: re: Thank you for coming!_

 _It wasn't a problem at all. I really enjoyed my time there. You can contact me as you see fit, but uh, I feel like I'm obligated to tell you that 4AM messages usually hold a certain...connotation. I'm just sayin'._

 _-Ichigo_

 _[SMS MSG] - June 20, 20XX, 04:03_

 _Fr: 0xx-xxx-4133_

 _Sub: re: Thank you for coming!_

 _I'm not sure what you mean?_

 _[SMS MSG]- June 20, 20XX, 04:05_

 _Fr: Me_

 _Sub: re: Thank you for coming!_

 _You know...like a booty call?_

 _[SMS MSG] - June 20, 20XX, 04:06_

 _Fr: Inoue Orihime_

 _Sub: re: Thank you for coming!_

(つω`｡)

[SMS MSG] - _June 20, 20XX, 04:09_

 _Fr: Me_

 _Sub: re: Thank you for coming!_

(; ω ; )ヾ(´∀`* )

 **···················**

 **A/N:** S-so much dialogue…I wanted to keep going for this chapter, but I had to cut it short. At least it's on a lighter note! Got kinda heavy there, it felt like. Also, FFN's story editor angers me so much.

I really wanted to release a second chapter before leaving for three weeks overseas. I hope it makes up for the lack of IchiHime last chapter. I might be overcompensating…

Despite being gone for a while, I hope you decide to stick around. If it's slow, I'm still trying to establish the characters and the universe they are in.

As always, thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3 - Case 120085

**A/N:** Hello again! I am so happy to see people out there reading this budding fic! Again, it is a joy to read your comments and wonders, and although I may not address each one directly, I think of you reviewers who take the time to write a review as I write the next chapter. I am sorry this one took a while! Without further ado, onwards to the story!

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

Lemon. Gin. Triple sec. Lillet. Absinthe. Snaps of cinnamon and anise. All aligned in a straight row.

First, a jigger each of gin, triple sec, and Lillet was poured into the shaker. A towel caressed the bottle, lip to neck, before being recapped after each pour. With a cocktail stirrer, she measured a spoonful of emerald absinthe, which joined the others in the shaker as she gave the mixture a few stirs, fingers conducting the long, thin handle like a wand. Ice and alcohol swirled alongside each other rapidly, without a single brash clang of metal against metal. Lemon juice splashed onto the ice at the press of a squeezer before the shaker was capped. She set it aside, wiping down the work area with a folded towel and sliding forward the saucer on with the cinnamon and anise. Absinthe was drizzled onto it, a lighter flickered and set alight the spices like tinder, releasing its scent with the coiling smoke above it, and she quickly captured it with a wide-mouthed, stemmed crystal glass. The grey wisps gathering inside the dome of the glass was like staring into the foggy depth of a fortune teller's crystal ball, except there was the certainty of an intriguing if not a palate-pleasing cocktail in the near future. As the fire extinguished itself and the spicy smoke further imbued itself into the vessel, ice was placed in the shaker before she began to jostle it in a fluid, rhythmic pattern, the contents chattering and mingling, the flavors melding and complimenting. The cocktail soirée ended as the completed concoction was poured into the smoky glass and capped with a transparent glass lid.

He watched her elegant movements, mesmerized and entranced as if they were from a geisha's performance. Each glide of her hands and flourish of her wrists were refined and uncontrived. Her face was calm and serene like she had surpassed the requirement of concentration, and the formula and its nuances came naturally to her as breathing.

"Smoky Corpse Reviver Number Two. Perfect hair-of-the-dog cure for last night's hangover, or for the headaches of the day." Orihime presented the drink and ended the performance was a bow. "Aromatic, sweet and citrusy, peppered with the scent and spice of absinthe and anise. Goes down easy but never to be underestimated."

"That was incredible, Inoue. You do that for every order?"

"Yes, of course! When a customer orders our signature cocktail or any of our drinks for that matter, we always make sure they receive the best version possible. The Smoky Corpse Reviver is one of our signatures and a bestseller."

Ichigo gently lifted the glass lid and took a sip, beckoned by the aroma that tickled his senses. The taste was intense, well-deserving of its namesake. It was a jolt to the system, a shock of adrenaline, with the burn of a searing kiss and the smolder of a summer twilight. Despite the cocktail being iced, warmth spread throughout his body, from the tip of his tongue to the pads of his feet. It was a surge of rejuvenation, the panacea to a cold drought of desolation and apathy. A Corpse Reviver, with marvels that transcended the purely physical senses. It took only one sip, and he felt like he understood why it was a signature at the Soten Kisshun.

Emotion and the headiness of the alcohol flooded his senses. It took him a second to come back down to earth. "It's even more amazing than it looks. How did you learn to make something like this? You looked like a real natural."

"My brother. My brother was the amazing one, not me." Orihime's smile failed to conceal the hint of melancholy in her voice.

"Sora?"

"Yes. Sora-oniisan, after he stole us away from our parents, took an apprenticeship under the previous owner of this place, before it was known as Soten Kisshun. He was kind, and he housed us and taught Sora the craft in return for our efforts in helping with the upkeep of his bar. As time went by, the barmaster grew older, and he bequeathed my brother with his lifeblood at his passing, who turned it into the bar you see now. Sora-nii's dream was to have a bar that would be a respite from life's weary ways, whether it was with a drink or two or just a place to get away and be greeted with a friendly face. Its doors would be open to anyone who needed it. He rechristened it _The Soten Kisshun_. And dedicated the rest of his life to making it a bastion of hospitality and contentment.

"The Smoky Corpse Reviver Number Two is his creation. Years ago, he taught me how to make it. He taught me his whole belief system on being a good bartender. And I want to do all I can to keep his dream alive."

Her face said it all— her brother had been the center of her world. She had adored him, admired him, been inspired by him. Ichigo almost felt the gnaw of jealousy at the unadulterated affection that colored her words. Which was utterly ridiculous because it was her _brother_ and he seemed to be no longer of this world.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ichigo murmured. "Sounds like he was a really great guy. You two must have been very close."

Orihime solemnly nodded.

"Yes. It was all so...so senseless, you know? As we were closing up one night, one minute he says he's stepping outside to check on a disturbance, and the next minute I find him face down in his own blood, and all I could do was just—" The words caught in Orihime's throat. As if she couldn't bring herself to say them out of hurt or out of shame.

Ichigo wanted to open his mouth, to say something, say anything to comfort her and keep her from crumbling. But what words could he even say?

"—Scream. It was all I could do. Scream. I don't remember if it was from my mouth or in my head, but it was all I could hear." Orihime's eyes, gray and a hurricane of emotions—pain, sorrow, and the most heartbreaking thing of all: guilt, pierced his own, and nearly swept him away. She didn't need to say anything further, because her eyes said it all.

Ichigo swallowed a lump. He was relieved that the Soten Kisshun has emptied out already, leaving just the two of them in the room. It never struck him how long he had lingered at the bar or how late it had become, and it was completely lost to him why he had initially decided to pay another visit to Soten Kisshun on his off day, this time alone.

"I'm not very good at comforting people, and I'm definitely not an insensitive idiot enough to tell you how your brother must have felt, but even from an outsider's point of view, you're doing a pretty damn fine job running things."

"Oh!" Orihime let out a breathy laugh and a watery smile. "Thank you. Thank you so much for saying that."

Orihime's smile had returned, and it was like clouds parting to make way for the sun.

"But...you have dreams yourself, don't you?"

"Me?"

"Well yeah. I mean, you can only chase someone else's dream for so long, right? Don't tell me you haven't ever thought about what you've wanted in life."

She bit her lip in pensive. "You know, I've always dreamt that in another life, I could have been a school teacher. And I'd love to be a baker. An astronaut, even! Oh, I have enough thoughts and dreams to fill five lifetimes!"

Ichigo gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of dreams you've got there, Inoue. Not too late to get started on some of them in this lifetime."

"You are so incredibly right, Kurosaki-kun. I have so many wishes: I wish could sprint down to the streets of Seireitei, try every flavor of every cupcake shop there! I would love to even smell the famous chocolate-frosted donut filled with five types of custard and decorated with sprinkles even more colorful than the rainbow that I hear customers sometimes talk about! But I could never bring myself to abandon The Soten Kisshun. It's my brother's dream...it's the reason why I'm alive. I owe my life to it. But don't look so sad, Kurosaki-kun! It's a joy to be here, and I'm so grateful to have been able to meet people like Urahara-san and Yoruichi-san. Tatsuki-chan and Sado-kun, too. And you, of course! To be able to meet so many wonderful people...I think that itself is a dream fulfilled.

"I hope that in every one of my five lifetimes' worth of dreams, I am able to meet someone like you."

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

Ichigo turned Inoue Sora's name over and over like a coin in the palm of his mind. It might have been strange for him to be fixated on someone unrelated to him deceased a few years ago, but everything about his death screamed foul play. And although he knew that justice always being served only existed in stories and miracles, he desperately wanted it to be true for Orihime's case. To press her more about the subject was out of the question, but sometimes being in the police force had its advantages. The expert on foul play himself was only two floors above Ichigo's own office. Problem was, the captain tended to be incredibly private and elusive, and as he was probably knee deep in the recent (coincidental) Inoue case, barging in to rifle through his files was not in anybody's best interest.

So naturally, he turned to Rukia.

"Oi Rukia. You remember when your beat was west of Ame and South of Mayonaka? On the outskirts of Hueco Mundo and Seireitei?" He asked one morning after his shift as he handed his nightly report to his commanding officer. Renji had already taken leave, muttering something about seeing her later anyway. Which was weird since Ichigo had never gotten an invitation to join even though they typically went out as a trio.

"Yes. But that was years ago." Rukia's eyes narrowed. "It's not exactly a peaceful beat, Ichigo. Are you bored or something? And by something, I mean looking for trouble, as we both know."

Well, that didn't take long. At least now he knew the whole playing coy thing wasn't going to work. It was just as well, Rukia was never one for bullshit, whether it was cutting it or calling it, she didn't have a tolerance for it, and it was a point Ichigo greatly respected her for.

"The name Inoue Sora ring a bell?"

Rukia's body visibly stiffened before steeling herself. She tossed onto her desk the papers he had handed her, crossing her arms as she turned to fully face Ichigo. "I didn't think I'd hear that name again. That was quite a while back. Why the sudden interest?"

"We're talking about the same one? Killed in an apparent homicide in front of his bar a few years back?"

"I was one of the first responders to that scene. It was an...emotionally taxing report to write up," Rukia grimaced.

"You think I could take a look at it? For uh...research purposes," his reply was not wholly a lie, but he was unsure of whether or not Rukia would actually buy into it.

"You think you anyone can access investigative archives like it's some kind of public library? And for what, so you can run around and play hero? Do you think you can discover something that my brother has not already?"

Ichigo was left reeling from her words. He wasn't offended so much as confused. When it came to her job, Rukia was unwaveringly cool and collected. But the Rukia in front of him was rattled, and the wall of ice she was raising was bitterly frigid.

"What the hell? Ease up, Madame Commander. I'm just curious about it. Maybe I think there's something to be learned from it. It's not like it's going to kill anyone." _Besides the ones already deceased, but who could ever hurt the dead?_

"I'm...I'm sorry." She sighed and eased off her hackles and rubbed her arm, deflated. "It's a sensitive case for me. In the course of your career as a police officer, you will inevitably see and encounter things that change you. I will never forget the way that girl wailed like her own life had been ripped from _her_ and not the lifeless body she was cradling in her arms. And as we performed the initial investigation, she was basically catatonic. Didn't speak or move. Her eyes were just staring unblinkingly.

"In some ways, I could understand losing someone you held so dearly in your heart. I felt the same about Hisana. But I was prepared for her last days. That other girl—his sister, I found out—never could have ever fathomed his to be in that way. I followed that case alongside Nii-sama. Religiously. What few leads we had never got us anything substantial. The trail ran cold and the case froze over. I never found out what happened to the girl that day."

"Rukia...I had no idea. I mean, I remember you being especially exhausted for a time back then, but I didn't know it was about this. You never let on anything about it."

"My pains are not affairs to burden others with." She sighed. "Very well. If you insist on laying eyes on case #120085, we'll need to retrieve it from Nii-sama's digital archives. Luckily for you, you're looking at one of only two people who have access to it." Rukia's switch from solemn to smug was almost in a blink of an eye, and Ichigo didn't know which was scarier, how cold she could be or how quickly her mood could change. Dare he even ask if Byakuya was privy to the fact that she could access his computer and files?

They formulated a plan—she would discreetly ask for the key to Captain Byakuya's office as he was leaving for the day, feigning that she had forgotten something important in it when she visited his office to thoughtfully present him with tea made from the finest matcha leaves earlier in the day. Then, she would log onto his computer (never mind how she knew the password), access his database storing the digital reports, copy them to a pocket USB, and quickly make her escape. It was simple as that; the mission would be accomplished in less than ten minutes.

"That's great and all, but...why did you illustrate all of it using Chappy drawings?"

"Because you are taking me to the Chappy Cafe in Seireitei in return for my efforts," Rukia growled. "In return for me lying to Nii-sama, I am demanding two dishes and a Chappy parfait. And we are getting up early to get Chappy soufflé pancakes before they sell out!"

"You know we're going to be the oldest people there by like decades, don't you?"

"My demands will be met if you want your file! Don't forget, I can make your work life a living hell if you dare cross me," she warned.

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

The night of the day Rukia handed him the file, Ichigo asked if his partner had any objections to ending another uneventful night patrol slightly earlier, and Renji was all too willing. Fortunately, their absence would not be felt, as Hanataro, a rookie reserve, was on shift that night and more than happy to sub in for them the remainder of the shift.

Settling down at his cubicle desk in front of the computer, Ichigo's eyes darted the room left and right. Not that anybody could see what was on his screen with a passing glance since it was shielded by a thin sheet of darkened film, but what he was doing felt ethically compromising if not illegal. He could hear his heart beating in his ears and clammy moisture collecting on his palms. Anxiety brewed at the pit of his stomach. Was it because this was supposed to be private information? Or was it because it felt something close to sacrilegious to unscrupulously gain and tread upon final trails of another man, another human being who had lived his days trying to make the best of the cards he was dealt with until someone tore it away from him?

The doubts rushing through his mind steadied Ichigo from instantly opening the file on his computer. Would Sora have wanted it to be this way? Wouldn't he have wanted to be saved from the obscurity of plenty of other cases that have gone cold? His soul may never find peace in bringing the perpetrator to justice, but at least it can find solace in people knowing his story. In any event, the mystery of his death had better chances now than rotting away in a digital abyss, didn't it?

' _Playing hero'_ and ' _looking for trouble_ ' in the sound of Rukia's voice echoed in the chasms of his brain, but his mind was made up as he double-clicked the icon on his screen.

Case #120085 splayed open on the screen. The wheel of the computer mouse rattled as Ichigo scanned and scrolled through the many pages. There was the initial report by Rukia, pictures of the body and the position it was in, blood splatters, notes with witness reports. Included was a copy of the official death report signed by Dr. Kurotsuchi Mayuri, stating that the cause of death had been exsanguination caused by gunshot wounds, one to the chest and another that pierced the jugular. Death was rapid.

"Sister of the victim" came up a few times, and Ichigo made sure to read over the sentences containing it carefully. The statements corroborated with Rukia's accounts; Orihime had been so traumatized, she was rendered paralyzed and mute. Some documents that were originally on paper had been scanned into the file, and he could recognize Byakuya's meticulous, inimitable handwriting on them. From the bullets that had been extracted from the body, their unique markings lead the police to be able to trace them back to the gun they were fired from. Byakuya had noted that the gun, coincidentally or not, matched that of an illegal shipment that had made its way into the northern harbors of Seireitei that Gin had seized just a week earlier. Needless to say, it was just as much a surprise to Gin as it was to the investigators, as all seized contraband was kept under high security in the winding lower basements of the police department, where it was difficult to access. If it had been raided prior to police obtainment, then it was news to him. Captain Ichimaru was not questioned any further. The whereabouts of the murder weapon was never ascertained.

The last page of the report only contained Byakuya's handwriting. Except rather than the usual immaculate penmanship, it looked like it was scrawled in a hurry. Ichigo could pick out words like "harbor" and "children" and "Diamond Dust" and a name he had never seen before.

 _Grand Fisher_.

It didn't make any sense to Ichigo. Sure, fishers could be found at the harbor. Sometimes children played there, too, against their parents' wishes. He racked his mind trying to fit the pieces together, but it was like trying to solve a puzzle blind, without knowing what the picture was even supposed to look like. There was a reason why Byakuya was the homicide expert, but then again, Ichigo had been up all night from his shift.

He closed the document and debated on whether or not to obliterate the evidence of his wrongdoing. It wasn't as if he could miraculously blow this case wide open again, so why even bother keeping it? To allow the chance of incriminating himself (or Rukia, actually) for pilfering secret documents? It wasn't a particularly relishing thought, so he permanently deleted it from the flash drive.

Rukia was well determined for Ichigo to be good on his word, as the next morning, she forced Ichigo to take her to the Chappy Cafe on Kompeito Street in Seireitei. (Renji was in tow as well, but Ichigo made it clear his end of the bargain was solely with Rukia.) The place was any Chappy the Rabbit fan's dream as it was stocked from ceiling to floor with Chappy merchandise, from plushies to pencils to fine china. One of its major draws was its cafe, serving various Chappy-featured entrees as well as desserts, including their famous soufflé pancakes with strawberries and marshmallow fluff as the ears and nose.

How multifaceted his commanding officer was was something of a wonder. She could be scary when she wanted to, forceful when she needed to, cunning when she wanting something out of someone, but the face she made as she munched on her Chappy parfait? It was hard to even imagine her as a cop. She was like a kitty on catnip. Even Renji's mouth was agape watching her eat, his spoonful of Chappy curry rice hanging in midair. _Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Rukia?_ his face seemed to say. Ichigo was fairly sure his expression mirrored the same.

When Rukia noticed everyone else at the table had stopped to stare, she quickly regained her composure.

"Damn Rukia," croaked Renji. "How come you never look at m—fffff!"

She silenced him by stuffing his own spoonful of rice into his mouth.

"It's impolite to speak while you're eating, _Renji_ ," she snapped. "Ichigo. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah...I think so," he replied, when in reality, the thing he was absolutely sure about was that looking into Inoue Sora's case had raised more questions than it did answers.

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

Another night on duty, and tonight, the still, quiet night was suffocatingly unbearable.

But not nearly as unbearable as the sound of something rattling against Renji's teeth in his mouth. The crunch of it as he crushed it between his teeth was what Ichigo imagined the other man's face would sound like if it were to meet his fist.

Renji, however, was blissfully unaware of any violent thoughts brewing against him as he cooly flipped the head of his dispenser for another piece of candy and popped the colorful morsel into his mouth. It wasn't until he felt the heated glare of Ichigo disdainfully watching him that he spared the other man a shred of attention.

"What? You want some?" Renji extended his candy dispenser towards Ichigo.

Ichigo's face contorted into a mixture of horror and disgust. As if Renji had asked him for a blowjob instead of simply offering him candy.

"Is that...is that what I think it is? You got a _fucking Chappy candy dispenser?_ "

Renji shrugged. "Well, technically it's Yuki. Chappy's a rabbit. This one's a duck. See?" He lifted his thumb, revealing a duck head that opened at the mouth, and nestled in its mouth was a blue piece of candy the shape of a rabbit head. "Candy's Chappy-shaped, though. Soda-flavored."

"So help me God, I swore I would rue the day I saw another Chappy face or a Chappy-related item ever again after leaving that place," Ichigo bemoaned. "Why don't you go ahead and put me out of my misery, just jam that dispenser as hard as you can, right here." He pointed to the area of his brow between his eyes. "Just one clean shot, I'll be gone before you even know it."

"Oi, it's really not that bad. Rukia's got one, too. Except hers is actually Chappy. The candy's kinda effervescent and lemony and helps keep me awake."

"Rukia's really gotten under your skin, you know that? Do you hear yourself right now?" Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. "Have you two been hanging out a lot lately? How did you already get to the café with Rukia the other day, your apartment is like way in the other direction."

Renji made a gasping noise, but it was abruptly cut off by the piece of candy in his mouth lodging into his airway. He started to choke, gagging and beating his chest as he tried to eject the offending soda-flavored Chappy head from his throat.

Ichigo wasn't annoyed with him enough to witness Renji choke to death in a heated patrol car, so he started walloping his hand on Renji's back, at least until the dispatch radio crackled to life.

"O-officers Kurosaki and Abarai! P...please come in!"

The nervous voice belonged to none other than Hanataro.

"I...I need some backup! Kikuchi Park, b-by the abandoned play area! Male, six feet, maybe over, light blue hair...I don't think I can take him on alone. Please! Come quick!"

"Hanataro! This is Ichigo. We'll be there in five minutes. Out." Ichigo ended the transmission and looked at a watery-eyed Renji, who basically got into a fight with a Chappy candy and nearly lost. "You done dying yet? We actually have a call to respond to."

Renji's only reply was a middle finger in the air.

Once upon a time, Kikuchi Park was a gem, tucked away deep within Rukongai. It was small, but nonetheless, a haven where children could go to after school and enjoy the swings and merry-go-round, or families would have small picnics under the gazebo overlooking the fountain where children would oftentimes splash around in. But when the rumors drifted in, people stopped coming.

In a nighttime bust that resulted in the arrest of five juveniles in the park, families were scared off and forbade their children from stepping foot on its grounds. The park became abandoned and defunct as the city ceased funding for its upkeep and care. The city's final act was a wire fence built around park perimeters. It did little to stop those who wanted entry. Over time, nature reclaimed it, and now, it was tangled with weeds and thorny bushes, and the rusted, faded children's playground casted twisted shadows in the moonlight. Foliage reached out between the wires of the fencing. Upon its decline, the conjecture surrounding Kikuchi Park became true: it was now a haunt for less-than-legal activity and trade. Despite Soul City police department efforts to surveil and curtail such activity, delinquents were undeterred as the thick vegetation surrounding the area disrupted visibility from the outside, but nobody cared enough to trim it down.

When Ichigo and Renji arrived on the scene, they first saw the flashing lights of the patrol car, illuminating the figure of Hanataro nervously keeping watch at a makeshift entrance that someone had made by cutting through the metal wire.

"You saw him coming through here, Hanataro?" Renji inquired.

Hanataro shakily nodded. "I saw his figure from a distance. Male, lean-built about six feet, with frosty blue hair. As I approached, I heard some shouting. I don't think he's alone in there. But then I heard some hits landing like someone was being punched. I was about to go in, but then the fence rattled like someone was being thrown at it! That's when I knew I had to call for backup."

Renji grunted in agreement. "Good call, Hanataro. Wouldn't want you rushing into something you can't handle and end up getting hurt. We'll go in to check it out. You stay out here in case someone else tries to come in."

Honestly, the police force sometimes seemed out of Hanataro's scope of personality, like throwing a puppy into a pack of feral cats. But Isshin said he had heart and there wasn't enough of it in the police department, so he was hired onto the traffic team.

Trying to cross the jagged metal of the cut-up wire fence without being scratched up wasn't a problem. But the brambles behind it proved to be an issue. Ichigo swore he had at least two thorns still pinned to his pant leg, grazing at his skin, after breaching the spiky bushes. Apparently just trying to force their way through was not the best of ideas.

They saw the man that Hanataro had described by the merry-go-round, smashing another man's head against the metal base. The sound of bone and sinew crunching with the echo of metal being thumped, accented by the wet slick of blood, was sickening.

"What-did-I-say-what-the-FUCK-did-I-say-about-fucking-me-over-you-just-don't-do-it!" Each word was punctuated by a clang of the other man's head against the merry-go-round.

"Stop right there, asswipe!"

Renji shined a flashlight like a spotlight on the violent man as Ichigo held a taser poised at the ready.

"I suggest you stop what you're doing unless you like fifty-thousand volts to the nuts," Renji barked.

The other man muttered a quick "Aw, shit," before bolting off.

Ichigo and Renji started to give chase, but he had leveraged himself on the top of a rotting wooden bench to jump to the part of the fence above the hedges and climb out. It left the remaining two with a heavy decision: attempt to jump out as he did, or round back through where they had come in from to get back out.

" _Janken_ to jump or turn back?

"Fuck no! We are jumping this thing," yelled Ichigo. He still had the thorns in his leg to cement his decision. More importantly, time was quickly slipping by as the other man was escaping their grasp.

Back outside of Kikuchi Park, Ichigo could barely make the form of the blue-haired man running about one block north before making a mad dash towards it. His breath and the rapid beating of his heat flooded his ears. They outnumbered the escapee, but the intersecting streets made it hard to try to cut him off somewhere. Moreover, the narrow alleyways worked to their disadvantage and offered even more options for him to evade them.

The street they were running down seemed neverending. Turning the corner, Ichigo nearly lost hope that they would never catch up at this rate. That is until he saw a patrol car blocking the street.

It was Hanataro, facing the man on the run alone, his jaw clenched and staring at him with his taser pointed dead on the miscreant.

"Kurosaki-san! Abarai-san! I've got him!" Hanataro shouted before returning his glare at the man in front of him. "H-hands in the air! I don't want to have to use this against you!"

The other man complied with an incredibly irritated look on his face.

When they were able to catch up, it took a second for Ichigo and Renji to recompose themselves.

"Identify yourself," barked Renji, still heavily breathing.

"Name's Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," the other man lazily replied. As if this was all a huge waste of his time.

"You want to tell us why you were running away from us?" Ichigo commanded.

Grimmjow merely shrugged. "Takes two to make it a chase. I coulda just been on a stroll."

Renji's brow twitched, temper flaring at Grimmjow's flagrant disregard for authority. "That's it, you _chimpira_ piece of crap. Hands on the vehicle." He shoved Grimmjow against the patrol car and began to pat him down.

"Hey! Fuck, I got rights, ya know!"

"Abarai-san, I ran a check on his background. A few misdemeanors—public intoxication, indecency—but nothing too major," Hanataro chimed in.

Renji's inspection of Grimmjow yielded a wad of cash and a brown paper bag. Inside of the paper bag were numerous small, clear sachets containing a powdery substance. Upon shining light on it, the substance was white with bits that glittered and winked back, with an aquamarine gleam. It was pretty, almost like the craft glitter that Yuzu used for class projects when she was younger, but something about it screamed danger.

"Get your hands off my shit! That's private property!"

Renji scoffed. "The only private thing you'll have tonight is your own cell downtown," he said as he cuffed Grimmjow's hands together. "And this is on top of the assault and battery we saw happening back there. Hanataro, take him away." He stuffed a loudly protesting Grimmjow into the back of the police car.

"We'll have to take this to get tested by Ishida right away." The small packets gleamed back at Ichigo underneath the moonlight. "Might even have to get Gin on this. Gonna be a long report in the morning," sighed Ichigo. "Oi, did you already tell Hanataro to leave?"

"Yeah, why?"

"So...we're just gonna _leisurely walk back to where we started?_ "

"No...Oh. Shit. HANATARO!"

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

"Well, well, if it isn't our old friend, Grimmjow."

Grimmjow's pugnacious temper had fizzled out around five in the morning, and when Renji and Ichigo led Captain Ichimaru Gin down to him three hours later, he was languidly picking his nose and flinging its contents to the far corner of his holding cell.

"You know this guy?"

"Sure do, Officer Kurosaki-kun. We've had a few...scuffles...in the past. This one likes to flirt with the law, but always seems to manage to not get burnt."

"We found him beating a guy half to death last night in Kikuchi Park. But we thought you might be interested in what we found on him," Renji explained.

"Did ya, now? After all those times we told him to be careful, too." Gin's last words seemed particularly venomous, and all of it was spat at in Grimmjow's direction. Grimmjow's face did not show any reaction outside of its usual haught.

"We sent a sample over to lab for analysis, but the rest we placed into the vault awaiting your discretion.

"Well done, officers. I'll take it from here. Grimmjow-kun here has been a very bad boy, and I'll be sure he understands what kind of trouble he's in."

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

Ichigo didn't think he'd see Grimmjow again for a while. At least not in the streets.

So imagine his and Renji's surprise when they saw a familiar shock of blue hair while patrolling Rukongai _the very same night_.

It was Grimmjow in the flesh, crouched on a stoop and lazily smoking a cigarette.

By all accounts, he was not doing anything wrong. But that didn't stop Renji from halting the car, stomping over to the curb in front of Grimmjow, pointing an accusatory finger at him, or bellowing loud enough to be heard four blocks over, "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Grimmjow took a long drag of his cigarette and blew puffs of smoke right into Renji's face. "Having a smoke in front of my own damn house. What else does it look like," he said casually.

"But-I don't-I just- _how_?" Renji could only sputter.

"Labs came back. Guess it didn't flag for anything illegal. Slap on the hand for beating the shit out of some dickhead who tried to stiff me out of my own money, though. Ain't that a bitch?"

From what Ichigo could tell, it indeed did look like Grimmjow sustained some kind of injury on his hand, specifically his fingers. Three of five of his fingers on his right hand were in splints as if someone had tried to shatter or break them, and he was currently teetering his cigarette between two clunky splint-wrapped fingers.

"Yeah, well you should have gotten much more than that, you _chimpira_ piece of crap! You're all the same- worthless, no-good lowlifes who think you're all hotshot, running around and doing whatever you want since you're in the yakuza, when in reality you're just lowest on the totem pole, a fucking menace to society who should just crawl back up the hole you slid out of."

"Hey. Why don't you say that again, cunt?" Grimmjow's voice was dangerous and low. He had stood up from his step and his nose was an inch away from Renji's in the blink of an eye, teeth bared, canines visible even in the low light of the night. He was as close as he could be without being accused of anything, ready for a fight. "I could say just the same about you, cop. You think you're better than us? Huh? You think because you wear that badge, you're a good guy. When you fire that taser, when you shoot your gun, when you put a man in jail- it's all fine because you're a 'good guy'. Sorry to break it to you, motherfucker, the world doesn't work that way. Some people are just doing all they can to make it through the day."

Somewhere from inside the dilapidated home behind Grimmjow, a voice called for him.

"So think about that the next time you wave your badge around. And step the fuck off my yard. That shit is private property."

He spat at the ground next to Renji's feet before turning around and stalking up the steps to his door and slamming it closed behind him.

Ichigo could see Renji seething with fury, jaws clenched. Renji usually had a retort for every curse thrown his way, but this time he was uncharacteristically silent.

He was about to call Renji back into the car so that they could continue doing what they were paid to do, but he was interrupted when his phone chimed with an incoming message.

 _[SMS MSG] - August 3, 20XX, 22:45_

 _Fr: (_ _ **blocked**_ _ **number**_ _)_

 _Sub: urgent_

 _come to SK. immediately. this is not a warning. this is a command._

 _final note: you are not a police officer._

 **•••••••••••••••••••**

 **A/N:** Man...Sometimes I'm caught between the desire to release a chapter or to keep pushing myself to get to some action. Sorry if this seems like another transition chapter. When is something juicy gonna happen?! Next one, I promise!


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